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My nostrils flare as I sniff the air, but all I smell is her.

Not possessed, then. No demonic presence.

That’s a relief. Those things can be nasty to get rid of once they’ve decided on a host. Still. Something isn’t right with her, with her magic.

I can tell.

“Should we open the invitation?” she asks, scrunching her nose up at me.

I blink, slightly confused by the topic change. “You don’t want to talk about…”

“If I keep thinking about what just happened, about what I just did…” she pauses, shaking her head. “I’ll lose it. Truly. I will lose my fucking mind if I try to… I think I just need time to, uh, adjust.” Her lower lip wobbles.

She doesn’t know the half of it.

The Midnight heirs always lose their minds in the end. Their minds, and their bodies, and there’s no hope for her.

Or for me.

Sixteen

Vivienne

Lachlan’s looking at me like he hates me again.

Fuck, this sucks a saggy ballsack.

“Why don’t you like me?” I ask him, my voice soft.

He blinks. “What?”

“You don’t like me.” I sound each word out slowly, watching his reaction.

“I don’t have to like you, Vivienne. Let’s get that straight. I have to try to protect you. Like has nothing to do with it.” He rubs his temples. “And what makes you think I don’t like you? I just told you you were beautiful, for Chrissakes.”

“Which is an objective truth,” I say airily, wishing I hadn’t asked him. He’s right. It doesn’t matter if he likes me or not.

I take a few steps forward, exhale deeply, and put my hands on his chest.

“What are you doing?” he chokes out.

“Getting this done,” I say, standing on my tiptoes and pulling the envelope out of his jacket pocket. “You’re not moving to get it to me, and I’m tired of waiting around. Let’s get this freak show on the road.”

He doesn’t say anything as I pat his chest again, just for good measure, and barely avoid yelling tits at him as I back off.

Right. Because he doesn’t like me. Stupid bear.

I’ll read that bear book from cover to cover if I have to, but I’m going to win him over. A week or two with someone who’s cold on you sounds terrible, much less an eternity.

“Do you know what’s in here?” I ask him, running a finger over the decoration on the wax seal before gently prying it off the soft velvet of the envelope. I break the thick wax seal with my thumb. It snaps with a brittle crunch, flaking dark red across the black-and-white checked tile like dried scabs.

Thick, heavy stationery slides out into my hand, and Lachlan takes the envelope from me as I try to juggle both.

“Thanks,” I murmur, spellbound by the engraved words in a deep blood red, scanning them quickly. “It’s an invitation to a ball.”

I read the text to him. “By decree of … blah blah blah… these people are really egotistical you know that?”

He sighs, and I grin at having annoyed him successfully again before continuing.